Violet
"Violet, c'mon, we gave to leave sweetie. You'll be fine, it's just your first day. C'mon, up up, let's go."
"Hnnnnnng."
"What was that?"
"Mum, I don't want to go to a place where I'm surrounded by narcissistic, idiotic assholes."
"Viol-"
"I said butt-holes."
"Well, young lady, you should still know better than to say any words remotely close to such...undecent words. The bus is leaving in half an hour, I'm leaving. I simply cannot wait for you to go to college. Goodbye, sweetie."
"Goodbye, mother."
I waited a few seconds for the old hag, also known as my mother, to leave and slam the door shut. I cannot stand her. Just because I was not her perfect little angel I am now abused by her. No, she hasn't physically hurt me yet, but she's deprived me of food, love, and other things like that.
She knows what's best for me.
Ha, she doesn't even know me.
Nobody does, actually.
I'm just a depressed fifteen year old girl that is pictured as the dream girl, miss A plus, miss perfect. That's just not me.
Yet, I still live up to the facade, hoping for my wish to come true.
I just want to feel loved by someone, even after they know who I truly am.
Too bad that's not going to happen. I mean, who would love a depressed, self conscious freak like me? Who would love a broken girl with a past of anorexia? Who would even slightly care for a girl who is bullied?
Who would love me?
::::::::::
After about what I'd say was fourty minutes, I had finished my daily routine. Wake up and scroll through my not-so-secretive secret Instagram account until I had to finally get up and shower, and complete all of the other thigs hat I have to do to make myself look presentable.
Now, my Instagram account...I had created it about four months into my depression...at least, when I was finally diagnosed with it.
I had only just turned thirteen when I had decided to go to a proffesional for help wih my thoughts of such...such horrid things...I didn't understand anything, then. After meeting with Dr. Florence, I had visited many of her colleagues, per her request. Making the decision to go through rehabilitation was one of the most idiotic actions I have ever made myself. I thought that it would help me. I thought, for whatever reason, that being surrounded by people who suffered, just as I, would help me.
In reality, it made my epressing thoughts even worse.
Being open to so many mental disorders, mental diseases, all of those people...they didn't deserve it...and I think that that's what made me break. Seeing all of those people being so hurt...it just opened my eyes to one of the harsh realities of our life. I became even worse after being put into rehab. I became anorexic, then, and I also began to put up my facade after seeing what can happen if you're too open.
It was after I completed my daily routine of preparing for school and remembering what had happened during my past that I finall began the short trek to the bus stop, which was about five houses down the lane.
'Yay, another wretched day of faking smiles. How fun will this be?'
If only I had known who I would encounter on the bus that particular morning, and how much he would change my life.
